I come but in as others do, to try with him the strength of my youth.

Come here about me, you my Myrmidons.

So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to it.

The quality of mercy is not strained . . .

O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the marketplace!

We are not all alone unhappy . . . .

The maidens call it Love-In-Idleness

Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.

Dost though think, because thou aet virtuous, there shall be no more cakes andale?

Sweet sister, let me live.